Redemption is for the Living
by DogStar716
Summary: Sirius watches as the two people he cares the most for learn to cope with his death. he learns just what life is really worth, and comes to grips with the greatest punishment of all. Mentioned preRemusTonks, but no other ships.


**Redemption is for the Living**

It's easy to be bitter. I've spent my entire life bitter. Now that I've finally died- yes, I said _finally_(don't tell me no one was expecting it)- I'm still bitter, and I almost wish I wasn't. Once you're dead, you can't change your emotions. There's nothing there to fix. You've left everything in the world of the living.

I said you've left the world of the living. For those of you who have died already, you'll know that technically, I'm still in it. I wander the crowded streets or walk in empty halls of long-forgotten flats, remembering all that has happened. No one can see me, or feel me, or hear me; I have no body. Ghosts have more substance than I do; I am nothing but spirit, now. I will stay like this for eternity, watching as the world spins by and hating the stupid choices people make. It's the hindsight bias- If _I_ had been in that situation, _I_ would have done it right.

See? I'm bitter, even though I'm dead. I'm bitter that there's nothing I can do anymore. I have to watch from the closest and farthest distance in the world as people fuck their world up, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm a bystander, a passerby who simply doesn't have the power to stop the horrors going on right under my nose.

I hate it. I hate not being able to move, to run, to _feel_. The only thing that's left is my mind, and my mental heart came along for the ride, staring out through nonexistent eyes at everything it can't stop. It hurts sometimes, to watch. It's like an invisible knife is twisting into my invisible soul, wrenching out all the emotions I've ever felt and dumping them on the dirty streets where they can be trampled under the uncaring feet of the living.

Those of you who are still alive- don't die. Don't ever die. Once you do, you'll learn to appreciate that no matter what life gives you, it's better than death. I'm bitter for that, too. I didn't truly live my life, not as I could have, and I'm bitter because there are no second chances. I'm stuck just _watching_ people.

There are two people I watch more than most others. One of them, he's still just a boy, really, sits in his room and stares at the wall. I want to shake him, yell in his face, curse him for being so stupid and curse him again for caring so much. I tried once, I tried until nonexistent tears rolled down nonexistent cheeks and my nonexistent voice had cried and screamed itself into nonexistent hoarseness. And the whole time, Harry just sat there on his bed, staring at his blank, bare wall; fists clenched so hard his nails left marks in his palms. I wanted to hit him. How could he be so dead when he was alive? Didn't he understand what would happen to him once he left the world of the living? Didn't he know the _helplessness_ he would feel? I know Harry; he'll hate being dead- most of us do, I think- and he won't be able to do anything about it.

I think he sits there because of me. At first, I wanted him to. When I was first dead- though that may have happened when I was still alive- I would watch him in his room and smile bitterly- always bitter- at his despair. He blamed himself, he probably still does, for causing my death. I blamed him too. I was so angry that he could be so stupid as to _believe_ Voldemort, and then come _after_ me. Me! Like I mattered! Had Voldemort's lies been true and he really had killed me in the Department of Mysteries that day, then things would have been better off for everyone. Except for me, I suppose. Death doesn't suit me. But no, Harry had to go and be _noble_, just like his bloody _father_, and try to save me. And because he went, because he believed the lying snake, I died. I died because I cared so much about him that I had to follow when Snape told us in a rushed voice where Harry had gone that night. I _cared_, and I got myself killed, and I blamed Harry for it. Watching him in his room, desolate and utterly alone, I felt a kind of sadistic pleasure that he had the consequences of his rashness to deal with now. I'd certainly had to cope with mine, I'd be damned if he didn't get his own retribution.

But still, I _did_ go. I let myself care about him. These traitorous thoughts inched towards my consciousness, shoving the anger and the pleasure aside to make way for the guilt. Slowly, I stopped blaming Harry. It wasn't the boy's fault, it was mine. I didn't have to go. I didn't have to follow. I was _warned_. Remus warned me, he made me swear not to do anything stupid, and I betrayed him too. I betray everyone.

Oh, but Remus. _Remus_. I don't know what Remus will do when he dies. I know what Harry will do- he'll scream and yell and try to attack whatever force is keeping him bound to this nonexistence. He will sit for days on end and try to find a way out of it- I know because he's like his father. He's very like his mother; he has her reason when he really starts thinking, but James has a greater hold on him. Remus told me I was trying too hard to see James in him, that I _wanted_ my friend back and therefore I made correlations that were entirely inaccurate, but I knew James. And I saw him in Harry. I still do. James was wild and unpredictable, vicious and gentle, and, above all, utterly and completely _good_. He hated bars, he hated cages, he wanted to _run_. Harry is just like him. Harry can't live in a cage, James couldn't live in a cage, and neither of them will ever stay dead. James, I know he's coming back. He _has_ to come back, because he wouldn't be able to bear this. There is some force that operates in him that will not allow him to stand by while evil is being done to a person. He'll come back, and Harry will too, once he dies. He won't be able to stay dead. Me, I won't find a way out. I spent too long in Azkaban; I know what a cage is. I've gotten used to it. I know there's no escape. Yes, I escaped from Azkaban physically, but it stayed with me. You can't throw something like that off. I understand now. Some say my spirit's been broken; I'm no longer what I once was. I say my spirit finally understood that nothing lasts forever.

Except death.

I was talking about Remus. When he dies, I don't know what will happen. The world might end. Remus has always been there. Even when I was in Azkaban, I always knew Remus would be there, solid and immovable. He's like a rock, except stronger. When he dies, the foundations that hold everyone up will crumble, I just know it. Everyone looks to him, whether consciously or not, to keep them going. He offers advice or a shoulder, depending on what you need, and he never fails. Remus is _always_ there. Even now, when I'm _dead_ and he doesn't even know I'm _there_, I go to him. After I watched Harry, hating him and blaming him, I went to Remus. I told him everything, all my fears, my wishes, my sorrows. I told him that it _was_ my fault, and I should have listened. I knew I had betrayed him, just like I betrayed James and Lily and Harry. Just like I've betrayed everyone else in my _fucking_ life. And maybe in my death; I told Harry I would be there and now I'm not. I told Remus all of this, and more, and he listened. He might not have heard me, but he's Remus, and I know he listened. Remus always listens, even when there's nothing to hear.

Remus and Harry are so different. I don't know if I ever paid attention to just _how_ different they are. I didn't pay attention to a lot of things when I was alive, and now that I've died, it all comes crashing in on me at once. Like how Remus always has to be doing something. It's how he copes. Harry copes by brooding; Remus copes by shoving it aside and brutally forcing his mind to bend itself to the hardest task possible. Right after I died, he went insane for the Order. He literally marched straight into Dumbledore's office- without even knocking, that's how upset he was- and demanded to be given something to do.

"Anything, really," he had said, waving a hand impatiently. "I just need to get out of here Dumbledore."

"You could take a vacation," Dumbledore suggested mildly, offering Remus a cup of tea. Remus took the cup with shaking hands and sipped from it. "I hear that a good long time with nothing pressing to do always relaxes the mind-"

"No!" Remus' voice had been sharp and harsh. He paused, looking taken aback at his own boldness. "I need something to do, Dumbledore; I don't think you understand, I _need_ something. I _can't_ think about this right now."

Dumbledore frowned. "I have one thing that you could do," he said gently. "But I do not know if you would be willing…"

"I'll do it," Remus said immediately. And that was how he became introduced to the werewolves of England. He poured his entire soul into the task, moulding himself to fit whatever criteria the werewolves expected of him, fitting more snugly into the way of life than I would have ever imagined possible. For a time, it was like he had almost become one of them, so good was his acting. But, at the end of the week or so, when he returned to the Order to give updates on what the werewolves were doing, he was always Remus again, tired and wan, but ready to listen and eager to help. I saw Tonks watching him from the corner of her eye; saw her make offhand comments to him that meant everything beneath their niceties. I saw Remus mentally back away in fear, devoting even more time to his work. He couldn't handle Tonks, I knew. Love, I think, was a bit much for him, then.

I watched him from the sky or sat beside him at his desk, wishing I could talk to him. He worked himself to exhaustion. I know some weeks where he slept maybe an hour total. He was trying to cope, trying to get over me, but it took a toll on him. Tonks got worried, Molly- who really is a kind person, no matter how much I dislike her- almost drove herself mad trying to make him eat, even Snape commented on Remus' sudden ferocity in his work. Remus ignored them all, protesting that he was fine, really; he just had to get this done for Dumbledore.

I don't know how well it worked, but I think he's better now. Harry is. They all are. I didn't watch the others, maybe they cared that I was gone, I don't know. But everyone is better. They don't use my house anymore- it belongs to Harry, anyway. All of my stuff belongs to Harry. I hope he has Kreacher killed, but that's wishful thinking. Harry's too good to do that. I don't know if Harry could stand that house. He's better, certainly, he's told himself that I don't want him to just sit there; I want him to be working. I don't know how true that is- part of me still wants him to suffer- but if it keeps him going, then he can believe it. I don't want him to die. I'd hate for that to happen to him. If anyone deserves to live, it's Harry. He's given so much for people, he doesn't even know how much, and to die would be more unfair to him than anyone else.

Remus has stopped working himself almost to death. He's still avoiding Tonks, but at least he'll look her in the eye. She'd be good for him, I think, once he can accept it. It's hard for Remus to accept people's love; it's part of this mentality he's got that tells him he's worthless. He really isn't. He means more to me than anyone right now, and he probably did when we were younger too. I just didn't notice how important he was. I didn't notice a lot of things when I was alive, and younger.

I don't want Remus to die either. He's got so much of his life left. He thinks he's almost spent, but he can do so much, especially for himself. If he died, he'd be incomplete for forever. I don't want him to have that.

Nobody should die. Dumbledore thinks it's all one big adventure, like a walk through the daisies in springtime, but he's wrong. It's torture, the greatest one of all. People can withstand the horrors of life, because it means they're still alive, they can still _do_ something. No matter how bad something is, you can always get over it and move on to the next part of the saga. Always. Voldemort has got it right; to die is the most horrible punishment a person can receive.

I got that punishment. It was coming to me, what with everything I've screwed up in my life, but I don't think I deserved it. I'm _bitter_ about it. I'll always be bitter now, because had I lived, I could have fixed something. I could have _changed_ something, but now I'm stuck here because of my choices and there's no redemption from death. In life, everyone has the chance for redemption; everyone has the chance to change. Once you're dead, there's no turning back. There's no escape. You're stuck and there's nothing you can do about it.

It shouldn't happen. People shouldn't have to die.

We do anyway, though, don't we? We're all gonna die. Every last one of us. Death is inevitable, no matter if it should be or not.

Fin


End file.
